the director added, 'Marshal, when that other shoe does drop, just make sure you're not under it.'
In the parking garage Parks saw the woman getting into her vehicle.
'Agent Maxwell,' he said. Michelle stepped back out of her truck. 'I hear you're taking some much-needed vacation.'
She looked at him strangely, and then realization spread across her features. 'Did you have something to do with that?'
'Where are you headed? Wrightsburg?'
'Why do you want to know?'
'How's your neck?'
'Fine. I'll be able to scream in no time. You didn't answer my question. Are you the reason they let me walk?'
'Maybe, though I feel more like a pawn than a full-fledged reason. If you're going to Wrightsburg, I'd like to hitch a ride.'
'Why?'
'You're a smart lady, I think you know the answer to that.'
As they climbed into her truck, Parks said, 'It looks like you and Sean King have really struck up a friendship.'
'I like him and respect him.'
'Almost got you killed, though.'
'That was hardly his fault.'
'Yeah, I suppose so.'
The way he said it made Michelle glance sharply at him, but the lawman was already looking out the window.
45
Joan and King were staying at a hotel in Washington when Joan received the news about Mildred Martin's murder. She called King's room and told him.
'Damn it,' he exclaimed. 'There goes another potential witness.'
'And you know what this means, Sean.'
'Yes, whoever killed Loretta Baldwin killed Mildred Martin.' He added sarcastically, 'Unless you buy that two different killers would murder their victims in the exact same way.'
'So it's confirmed. She
Neither one of them had the answer to that.
It was late morning when they drove back to Wrightsburg. By prearrangement they met Parks and Michelle at King's house for lunch.
Michelle and Parks had brought carryout Chinese, and they all gathered on the rear deck to eat and discuss the case.
'Figured you two would be really hungry from all your detective work,' said Parks as he pushed sweet-and- sour chicken into his mouth. 'Heard from the FBI that you been burning up the frequent flier mileage on this Bruno thing.'
'A lot of miles and not a lot of results,' answered King.
Joan took a few minutes to bring them up to date on theirinvestigations and interviews with Mildred Martin and Catherine Bruno as well as their noninterview with Sidney Morse.
'Sounds like Peter Morse hit the jackpot,' said Michelle. 'I wonder where he is?'
'My bet wouldn't be Ohio,' said King. 'I'm thinking a tiny island in the sun.'
'Sounds wonderful,' said Joan. 'I'd love to try it.'
Parks looked at some notes and then said, 'Okay, Michelle filled me in on your talks with Ramsey's buddy at Atticus College, Horst?'
'Jorst,' corrected Michelle.
'Right. And it didn't look like he could shed much light on anything.'
'Ramsey obviously had a problem with Clyde Ritter,' said King.
'Just political,' asked Parks, 'or something more?'
King shrugged. 'Ramsey was a Vietnam War protester, a Berkeley-educated turbocharged radical, at least in his youth. Ritter was a former TV preacher and as conservative as Ramsey was liberal. Hell, if Ritter had had a gun, he probably would have shot Ramsey first!'
'I believe Thornton Jorst is worth another look,' said Michelle. 'Everything he told us made sense-too much sense, as though he were filling in the numbers for us, telling us exactly what he thought we came to hear. And there was something about his demeanor that wasn't quite right.'
'Interesting,' said Joan as she sipped her tea.
'And we're going to follow up with Kate Ramsey as soon as she gets back to Richmond,' Michelle added.
'What happened to your reassignment?' asked King.
'They turned it into vacation instead.'
Joan said, 'My, I don't remember the Service being that accommodating.'
'I think the good marshal here had something to do with it.'
They all stared at a very uncomfortable-looking Parks.
He put down his chopsticks and took a swig of wine. 'Good stuff.'
'It should be,' said King.
'Expensive?'
'Price often has little to do with how good a wine is. That bottle is maybe twenty-five dollars, and you'd be hard put to find a better Bordeaux at three times the price.'
'You really have to educate me on this, Sean. It's so impressive,' said Joan before her gaze fell fully upon Parks. 'So, Jefferson, this rescue of Agent Maxwell you orchestrated. To what do we owe this magnanimous gesture?'
Parks cleared his throat. 'Okay, I'll just lay it out for you. How's that? I'm not much into covert shit.'
'Sounds yummy,' she said. 'I'm all ears.'
'Joan, give it a rest,' said King. 'Go ahead,' he told Parks.
'There's been a task force formed among the FBI, Secret Service and the Marshals. Its purpose is to figure out what the hell is going on with the Bruno disappearance, the murder of Howard Jennings, Susan Whitehead, Loretta Baldwin and most recently Mildred Martin. From the deaths of Baldwin and Martin we know they were killed by the same person or persons.'
Michelle said, 'Right, this is Logic 101. Baldwin goes with Ritter, and Martin goes with Bruno. Therefore, if Baldwin and the Martins' deaths are connected somehow, Ritter and Bruno must be connected too.'
'Maybe,' said Parks warily. 'I'm not running to any conclusions right now.'
King left for a minute. When he returned, he handed Parks a piece of paper. It was the copy of the message he'd found pinned to Susan Whitehead's body. King glanced over at Joan, who flinched and then immediately rose and proceeded to read the note over Parks's shoulder.
Parks finished and looked up. 'I heard about this note from the fibbies. So what's your take?'
'That maybe I'm at the center of all this somehow,' King said.
'Pushing a post and giving feet?' said Parks.
'Secret Service parlance,' said Michelle.
'It sounds like a revenge note to me,' concluded Parks.
'And it concerns the Ritter assassination,' said Joan.
'Ramsey hit his target. And Sean killed Ramsey,' said Parks. 'So who's left to take out revenge?' he added suspiciously.
